


Radioactive

by SpiderShell



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Torture, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29024649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiderShell/pseuds/SpiderShell
Summary: Before light had started to filter through the tiny window at the top of the back wall, the hooded man was back. Closely examining a bullet, he nonchalantly said, “I’ve heard a lot about you, Tony Stark. Iron Man. They saw that you’re fearless, and that nothing fazes you, but I don’t think so.” He lifted his head and looked Tony in the eye. “I want to know what will make you reach your limit. What will it take for me to break you?”Tony curled one hand into a fist.The hooded man sighed. “For all your superhero habits, I know that inflicting physical pain on you is not what it takes. Something a little more closer to your heart, perhaps?” He gestured to Peter. “Take this boy, for example. I do not know who he is and how or whether he is related to you, but I’d guess that he is important to you.”Tony pushed Peter behind him. “Don’t you dare touch him.”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Radioactive

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING:** Graphic-ish descriptions of violence, including mentions of pain and blood. Please don't read further if this disturbs you. 
> 
> Stay safe, my friends <33

“I knew you’d get an A on that assignment, Pete,” Tony said, grinning as he and Peter walked down the alley beside Midtown School of Science and Technology. “You studied well.”

Peter smiled up at his mentor. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

As the pair reached Tony’s car at the road by the end of the alley, Peter stopped abruptly. “Do you hear that?” he asked, looking around slightly anxiously. 

Tony’s hand froze on the car door handle. “No, what?”

Peter's middle and ring fingers stretched towards his palm and then abruptly unfolded and he realised he wasn't in his suit and had no web-shooters. “I heard rustling.” He paused and brought one finger to his temple, eyes widening. “My danger senses are screaming.”

Tony stepped back towards the alley, eyes narrowed. “Stay back,” he warned Peter. 

“LOOK OUT!” Peter yelled suddenly, and Tony spun around, expecting to see someone with a gun or another weapon. He did not expect to see a cloud of white powder descending down upon him. Taken by surprise, he froze, and as Peter lunged towards him to knock him away, it covered both of them. 

Light dissolved into darkness.

* * *

The world swam before Peter’s eyes. He tried to keep them open, but when dizziness threatened to overtake him, he groaned and lay back on something that felt cold and hard against his back. His mind started to drift. What was that tingling feeling in his head? 

A foot slammed into his back. Peter yelped, eyes flying open as his body stung with sudden pain. 

“Get up, boy.” A low and quiet but dangerous voice spoke from above, and Peter looked up, eyes squinting. A man stood beside him, outlined by the sun. “Do I have to tell you again?” Peter scrambled to his feet, and looked the man in the eye, his back beginning to ache. He knew he’d bruise by the end of the day. 

The man wore a hood that shrouded most of his face in darkness, so all Peter could see was his eerily blue eyes. “Move,” he said, grabbing Peter’s bicep in a painful grip and pointing to a dark cell ahead. 

Peter resisted. “No. Who are you?”

Instantly, a hand slammed across his face. Fiery pain spidered its way over his cheek and jaw as he gasped and jerked backwards. 

“That’s none ‘o your business. Now get inside. Or else.” The man took his jaw and forced Peter’s head to the side. “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll kill him.” When his bleary eyes saw Tony slumped on the ground a few feet away, Peter froze, suddenly panicked. 

Where were they?

“Mr. Stark,” he said softly. 

Peter was forced to look at the man again. “Everything you do affects him. Understand, boy?” he growled. “If you decide to do anything stupid or try to resist me, he dies.”

Fear clutching his heart, Peter nodded numbly as he was led into a cell. He fell to his knees on the dirty ground as the man shoved him, something sharp digging into his palm. 

“Behave yourself,” the man snarled, dragging Tony into the same cell. After locking the door with an audible click, he turned on his heel and left, the sound of his boots slowly disappearing into silence. 

“Mr. Stark!” Peter said, crawling over to his prone mentor. He took the man’s arms and shook him. “Wake up!” He rubbed his own face, smearing dirt over his nose. “Please. I need you.”

Tony groaned, and his eyes opened to slits. “Peter? Why am I on the ground?”

Peter took a deep breath, moving back to sit on his ankles. “I think we’ve been captured. A guy in a hood locked us in this cell.”

Tony lifted himself up with his elbows. “A guy in a hood?” he mused, deep in thought. Suddenly, his gaze snapped to Peter. “Are you okay??”

The boy nodded. 

Tony didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and sat up fully. “I guess we’re in here for the long run,” he said after a little while. “Both of us are without any weapons - darn me thinking that we’d be safe out without any protection.” He sighed sharply. “Why the heck didn’t I listen to my gut feeling?”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Peter said softly, rubbing his arms to fend off the cold. “I never would have guessed that we would have been kidnapped while celebrating my essay grade. It was meant to be a good day.” He gave a breathy laugh, shivering.

“C’mere,” Tony said, scooting so that his back was pressed up against the stone wall. He held an arm out. “You’re cold.”

Peter gratefully sat next to Tony, smiling softly as the man wrapped an arm around his shoulder. 

“We’ll get out of here eventually,” Tony said, staring at the opposite wall. 

Leaning his head to the side until it rested on Mr. Stark’s shoulder, Peter whispered, “I hope so.”

* * *

Before light had started to filter through the tiny window at the top of the back wall, the hooded man was back. Closely examining a bullet, he nonchalantly said, “I’ve heard a lot about you, Tony Stark. Iron Man. They saw that you’re fearless, and that nothing fazes you, but I don’t think so.” He lifted his head and looked Tony in the eye. “I want to know what will make you reach your limit. What will it take for me to break you?”

Tony curled one hand into a fist, both he and Peter standing up.

The hooded man sighed. “For all your superhero habits, I know that inflicting physical pain on you is not what it takes. Something a little more closer to your heart, perhaps?” He gestured to Peter. “Take this boy, for example. I do not know who he is and how or whether he is related to you, but I’d guess that he is important to you.”

Tony pushed Peter behind him. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

A laugh. “Unless you haven’t noticed, you don’t have any authority here.”

“Why are you doing this?”

The hooded man took a step closer. “New York,” he said simply. “You killed my family. I’m going to make you pay.”

“That wasn’t exactly my fault-”

“SHUT UP!” the man screamed, motioning to people outside the door. Before anyone could react, Peter was being pulled away and Tony chained to two rings on the wall. 

“Enjoy,” the man said, hatred dancing in his eyes. 

Tony could only watch as Peter’s hands were tied together and his body hoisted into the air by a ring on the roof. His toes only just touching the ground, the boy groaned, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He took deep measured breaths, trying not to think about the excruciating, unending pressure on his shoulder, wrist, and knee joints and the terrifying inability to move. 

In a swift movement, the hooded man ripped off Peter’s shirt, holding out his right hand to receive a leather whip. 

“No! Leave him alone!” Tony said, struggling against his restraints. “He’s just a child. Take me instead!”

The man laughed. “What? I haven’t even started with the best part. I’m afraid we’re not done.He raised his arm.

Tony closed his eyes, but he couldn’t shut out the sound of Peter’s screams. 

* * *

Half conscious in Tony’s arms, Peter whimpered. His glazed brown eyes stared up at the man. "Pleas' help me," he mumbled. "Mstr Strk, it hurts."

"I know it does," Tony soothes, brushing a hand through Peter's sweaty curls. “I don’t have any bandages or anything to make it better.”

“Don’ leave me,” Peter pleaded. His hand, limp and pale, weakly reached out towards Tony’s face. Tony grabbed the hand and gently pressed it again his cheek. 

“I promise.”

Peter sniffled. “I..jus’ wnted t’ say..” he paused for breath. “You’re like a fther t’me.”

Tony froze. “Peter, what?” His attention snapped onto the boy’s face, but Peter’s eyes had closed, finally drifting off to sleep. 

“Pete, did you actually mean that?” Tony whispered to the wall. 

* * *

_Two days later…_

“Here we are!” the hooded man said, entering the room with a new promise of a day of pain. “Let’s try something a little different today.” He hauled Peter to his feet and manhandled him to the door.

“Hey! Where are you taking him?” Tony rose, his joints creaking painfully. 

“You’ll see,” was all the man said as he and Peter disappeared. All Tony could see was the terrified look on the boy’s face before he was gone. 

Tony clenched his fists. This man would pay. 

* * *

Peter screamed and screamed until his throat felt like it was on fire. He strained to move his body, but the straps that held his wrists, ankles, and torso to the table had clearly been made for enhanced humans. Heat spread up his legs from his feet, and he screamed again. Tears clouded his vision. His breath hitched as the pain lessened but didn’t fully go away. 

“Alright,” the hooded man said with a strange smile. “Wait here.”

When Tony appeared in the doorway, Peter let out a breath of relief. “‘Tony,” he murmured, letting his eyes slip shut. 

A sharp pain struck his cheek, and his eyes flew open. “None of that!” the man reprimanded him. He turned to whisper something in Tony’s ear, an evil grin appearing as he watched the billionaire’s face drain of colour. 

“No,” Tony said, voice breaking. “Please, I can’t do that.”

“If you don’t, I will kill him in front of you, slowly, painfully.”

“NO!”

“Then do it.” The hooded man pressed a knife into Tony’s hand and pushed him forward, towards Peter. “Make him scream.”

Peter’s eyes filled with fear, and his breath hitched as he gazed up at his distraught mentor. “What’s happening?”

A tear slipped down Tony’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Pete,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.” He clutched the knife tighter in his hand. “I have to do this to save your life.”

"Do what?" Peter asked, voice shaking.

"Pete, do you trust me?"

Without hesitation, Peter answered. "Always." His eyes were trained on Tony’s face.

Tony took the knife and sliced one cut on Peter’s thigh - it wasn’t deep, but blood still oozed out of the incision. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pulling the weapon away as Peter whimpered in pain. There was _blood._ There was a new wound on Peter’s body and _he_ put it there. He felt sick. He agreed to do this to save Peter’s life, but how could he hurt this innocent boy? Peter didn’t deserve this. How would he ever forgive him?

“Oh, come now. Don’t waste my time,” the hooded man growled, moving in from behind and grabbing Tony’s hand tightly. With their combined force, the weapon plunged deep, blood spurting. As Peter thrashed and screamed, the man smiled wide, eyes on Tony’s shocked, tear-streaked face. “See? Maybe all you need is a little _guidance._ ” With that, he let go of Tony and walked out the door, locking it behind and leaving the boy and his mentor alone. 

Tony sunk to his knees, sobbing. “What have I done?” he whispered to himself. “What have I done?” He could not bear to look at Peter, who was laying on the surgical table, bleeding and crying. 

“Mstr Strk, help me,” Peter begged, his head thrashing from side to side. “It really _hurts._ ”

Hands shaking, Tony picked up a strip of cloth and began to bind the wound on Peter’s leg that he had caused with his own hand. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

Peter’s hand touched his arm. “Not your fault,” he murmured. “Made you do it.”

Tony took a deep breath. “I’m so, so sorry.”

* * *

_Five days later…_

“Look at this,” the hooded man said, holding up a syringe. “This is a little formula that I made myself a couple months ago.” He paused, staring at the blue liquid. “The previous person I tested it on begged for me to kill them, so do let me know how it feels.”  
Because Peter’s body was so broken, the actual inserting of the syringe didn’t hurt; all he felt was a tiny sting and a rush of cold. _Maybe my enhanced body cells mean that it won’t affect me,_ he hoped.

The tightness in his muscles began slowly. It built up, like the ache of an old injury never fully healed, until it became uncomfortable to the point of pain. Peter shifted in the chair he was strapped to, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.  
He forced himself to not cry. He knew it was futile, but when the hooded man had first taken him into the experimenting room, he had decided that he would not scream or yell or beg- he would not give him the satisfaction of seeing him break.  
But, with the right tools, the right fears, everyone breaks. 

Broken bones made him scream. Choking made him panic. Whips and ropes made him terrified. Of course, there were things that he could handle better than others; such was the life of someone who had to force himself to get used to torture.  
Getting a needle stuck into one’s arm and waiting for a mystery concoction to take hold was not easy because there was no way to know what was coming. It brought terror to even the bravest of people, and Peter was no exception. He knew he might beg for it to be over, slip and say something he might regret, but he wouldn’t be able to control it. However, he knew that he would possibly be able to focus enough to not cry, and he made that his goal, the thing to fixate upon to lessen the pain. 

His fingernails dug into the wood of the chair, leaving small indents. The low, strained sounds of pain didn’t even register as the pain seemed to almost swell from within him and take over his mind. His body tensed and tightened in sharp jerks. Peter gasped and whined, head thrashing. 

If he had a second to breathe, a second of no pain, he knew he would be able to calm himself. But the pain was getting worse and the hooded man was watching his every move, waiting for the first sound. Waiting for him to break. 

“Hnnng….g-gah..” Peter’s teeth clicked shut painfully when the groan slipped out unbidden. It hurt so bad and he knew he would beg. It was fine, wasn’t it? It didn’t mean he was giving up, did it? Mr. Stark wouldn’t think of him as weak for doing it, would he?  
“Please s..s-stop it,” he hissed, eyes squeezed shut. His teeth chattered as he tried to spit the words out just as much as he fought to shut himself up. The hooded man gave no answer. A horrible, twisted, frustrated groan escaped as he violently jerked forward, trying to avoid a sharp muscle cramp spasming it’s way up to his neck. “Make it _stop!_ ”

A knot in his stomach burned, and it felt like a rope had been yanked at both ends to tighten a tangle to agony deep within him. Peter howled, throwing his head back. “Please!” he cried, his eyes watering. “G-guh, mak-ke it, make,” Peter whimpered and tried to stay silent, but the drug in his system wouldn’t let him stay still or get any reprieve. His head snapped forward. 

In a white-blind flare of agony, his voice broke. “Mr. Stark!” Tears spilt down his cheeks and he sobbed. “Mr. Stark, please help me…”

He couldn’t even stop himself from crying.

* * *

Tony sat slumped against the wall, upright with the freezing limestone against his back. He leaned his head back, trying to shut out the sound of Peter’s cries. _I can’t do this anymore,_ he thought. _I can’t do this every day, staying perfectly healthy while he destroys Peter._

__“Please!” he called out. “I’ll do whatever you want, just please leave him alone!”_ _

__The screams stopped and the hooded man appeared in front of him, a gun in his hand. “You know, with all the rumours, I expected more from you. Guess Tony Stark isn’t as strong as he’d like to think.”_ _

__Tony saw the gun point towards his head and met the hooded man’s gaze. “Let him go. I don’t care what you do to me, just let Peter go.”_ _

__The hooded man chuckled. “When I’m so close to breaking you beyond repair? Not a chance. I want you to suffer.” He grabbed Tony’s shirt and pulled him forward, spitting in his face. “You murdered my family, I’ll murder yours.” When he saw a look of terror pass over Tony’s face briefly, he smiled, pulling a device out of his pocket. “Hear the sound of him dying,” he whispered, finger about to press the button. Tony closed his eyes, tears forming. _No, not Peter. Please, spare his life. Please.__ _

__When nothing happened, he peaked an eye open._ _

__A blur of whites and reds and blues crossed his field of vision, and the hooded man flew across the room, hitting the wall opposite. When the dust cleared, Tony saw Steve Rogers, Captain America, standing in front of him, shoulders squared, weapon ready. The hooded man’s body did not move._ _

__Tension radiated from Steve’s muscles. “Are you okay?” he asked._ _

__“I’m fine,” Tony said, getting to his feet. “But Peter’s not. We need to get to Peter.” Terror flooding him, he rushed through the broken door to the cell and into the next room, where Peter lay motionless on the table._ _

__“Peter! No!” Tony picked up the boy’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. When he felt a slow beat, he let his head sink down until it was resting on Peter’s chest. “You’re alive.”_ _

* * *

___Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._ _ _

__Peter frowned, consciousness returning to him all at once. Where was he?_ _

___Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._ _ _

__A feeling of dread sunk low in his stomach. “No, no, no,” he murmured, both eyes flying open. He was lying in a bed, hooked up to a machine. There was something attached to his wrist. He was tied to the bed._ _

__Terror burning in his eyes, Peter thrashed, trying to get loose, to get free. The hooded man wasn’t here, but he would be soon. He couldn’t go through another day of torture again. He just couldn’t._ _

__“Peter?? Peter!!” A vaguely familiar voice called to him, but Peter didn’t heed it. It was only a trick. Surely the hooded man would appear in the doorway, hands holding something else that would make him fear another day._ _

__Strong but gentle hands were suddenly on his shoulders, pushing him back. “Stay still, buddy, You’re not well.” Peter resisted, crying out, but the arms engulfed him in a hug and a voice whispered to him soothingly. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s me, Pete.”_ _

__Peter’s eyes cleared, and he saw the face of his mentor. “Mr. Stark?” he whispered, going limp. “Oh gosh...I - I’m sorry. I just thought…” he trailed off._ _

__“It’s okay,” Tony said with a sad smile. “You’re safe now.”_ _

__And Peter believed him._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it!!
> 
> As always, feedback and constructive criticism is appreciated :)


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